This baseball fetish I've recently developed may be getting a bit out of hand. Now I'm writing baseball poetry.
By Tracy Farr
“Lucky” Barganski plays centerfield, mostly,
Sometimes he plays third, although just in a pinch.
He loves to snag flies that to catch seem impossible,
He makes it look easy, a guaranteed cinch.
I once saw a game where Barganski was fearless,
He darted and sprinted all over the grass,
He caught flying balls on the tip of his leather glove.
He rounded up grounders with panache and with flash.
And then in the 9th he jumped up in the air
To catch a hard hit going over the wall.
He flew 15 feet, like an eagle, I swear,
I’d never seen anything like it at all.
But “Lucky” won’t be on the roster tonight,
He’s sitting at home on the couch, yes it’s true.
For “Lucky” Barganski , the master at catching things,
Went out last night and came home with the flu.
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